


La Camisa Negra

by Liobhan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lance is obnoxious, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, another fic where lance makes keith dance, it sounded cute in my head, keith is reluctant, sexual frustration ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liobhan/pseuds/Liobhan
Summary: “Baila conmigo, Keith.”  Lance’s voice is soft then, Spanish accent rolling smoothly off his tongue as if it were made of honey, and he’s giving Keith alook.  Acheeky, smuglook that’s saying Keith should know exactly what’s going to happen next –But Keith doesn’t have damned clue.He finally turns towards Lance properly, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.  “What?”“I said ‘dance with me’.”  Lance gives him a smile, and Keith hates the way his heart gives a painful knock against his ribs.Hatesit.





	La Camisa Negra

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody!! If anyone is wondering where I've been these last few months, the answer is in Voltron Hell. Or more specifically, Klance Hell - hence this fic. I listened to _La Camisa Negra_ for the first time a little while ago, and it just struck me as something Lance would love to dance and sing to, so here we are.
> 
> Also this is my first Voltron fic EVER and I would really appreciate some feedback! Thank you, and enjoy xoxo

Keith is praying to whatever deity holds sway in this particular sector of the universe that the bridge does not have a sound system.  The kind that could be paired with external devices and be made to play _music_ , in particular.

In hindsight, his hopes were in vain.  The ship possesses all kinds of foreign technology, of the likes he and the rest of the paladins never could have imagined before their adventures began.  It would be ridiculous to think that the ship’s bridge wouldn’t have something capable of simply playing a bit of music somehow. 

But still, Keith hopes.

A rhythmic twanging of a guitar suddenly fills the bridge, and he hears a loud _whoop_ ring out just outside the doors.  They slide open in the next instant to reveal a very smug looking Lance strutting his way inside.

“Told you I could do it.”  

A pleasant-sounding (Keith is reluctant to admit) voice over the speakers starts crooning out the song’s lyrics in Spanish.  Lance joins in right away, rolling his body to the beat.

Keith groans wordlessly, his head thunking against the headrest of his chair.  This is exactly what he _didn’t_ want.  Everyone else was off doing their own thing within the castle; Lance literally had the _entire_ ship to do whatever he wanted.  Instead he was here, pestering Keith as _usual_.  Was a little peace and quiet too much to ask??

“Do you have to do this _here?_ ”

Lance pretends to consider his question.  “Hmmmm…”

Keith’s mouth sets into a fierce scowl, but Lance pays him no mind.

“…I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“ _Why??”_ Keith asks, exasperated.

Lance shoots him a sly grin in the midst of his dancing.  Keith’s face suddenly feels a bit warm.  Did someone adjust the temperature gage just now – or something??

“Because _you’re_ here, of course.”

Keith most certainly does _not_ splutter at this.  “Me?  What have I got to do with anything!?”

“Everything!”  Lance is smiling and looking much too pleased with himself.  “Why choose between getting my groove on and annoying you – when I can do both simultaneously!”  Lance winks at Keith, and a growl rumbles out of the other boy before he can think.

“’Simultaneously’ is a big word Lance – you sure you know what it means?”

“Uh yeah, it means ‘at the same time’.  Duh.” 

Keith’s feeble attempt to rile him up isn’t working; he’s still got that obnoxious shit-eating grin plastered on his stupid face, dancing away like it’s easier than breathing.

Keith tries not to watch him.

 _Especially_ not when Lance starts shimmying closer and closer.  Keith can’t help the sudden apprehension prickling up his spine…

“ _Baila conmigo_ , Keith.”  Lance’s voice is soft then, Spanish accent rolling smoothly off his tongue as if it were made of honey, and he’s giving Keith a _look_.  A _cheeky, smug_ look that’s saying Keith should know _exactly_ what’s going to happen next –

But Keith doesn’t have a fucking clue.

He finally turns towards Lance properly, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.  “What?”

“I said ‘dance with me’.”  Lance gives him a smile, and Keith hates the way his heart gives a painful knock against his ribs.  _Hates_ it.

“Why would –“

His words trail off into a whisper without his permission.  Keith clears his throat and tries again, ears burning.

“Why would you say that to me in Spanish, when you knew you’d have to translate it anyway…”

Lance rolls his eyes at him.  “Keith, Keith, Keith,” he tuts, shaking his head.  “Always gotta be so literal…”

He slides even closer and Keith takes a wary step backwards.  Lance gives him a smirk.

“Maybe I thought my charming Latino ways would convince you to join me.”

Keith almost chokes, his cheeks aflame.

“Yeah, no.  Not gonna happen.”  His voice is level now, which he honestly doesn’t know how he managed.  But he’ll take it.

Holy shit, he’ll take it.

Immediately Lance’s face falls into a pout, his bottom lip sticking out.  “Why not??”

“Because I don’t dance.”

“ _Keeeeith –“_

“And anyway, why are _you_ trying to get me to dance with you?”  Keith can’t help his defensiveness; he’s being backed into a corner he _one hundred percent_ does not want to be backed into.  Obviously not. 

“’Cuz I’m bored, and I feel like dancing.”  Lance starts wiggling his hips again to the beat of the music.

“So then _go dance_.  Somewhere else.”

“But I don’t want to all by myself!”

Keith growls under his breath, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a huff.  Raising an eyebrow at Lance as if to say _you’re behaving like such_ _an annoying child right now_.

But Lance’s stupid blue eyes only get bigger.  “ _Pleeeeeeease?”_

“ _NO_.”

God, why is he being so persistent about this?  Why can’t he just leave Keith the _fuck alone??_

Suddenly Lance’s eyes narrow, but there’s a teasing glint in them that’s doing alarming things to Keith’s insides. 

“You know I’m not gonna stop bothering you until you cave, right?”

Keith looks up at him again, his face so full of misery that Lance has to struggle not to laugh.

“C’mon buddy, humour me.  It’ll be fun!”

He’s still standing there, hips swaying to the music like they have a mind of their own… and Keith is quickly running out of excuses. 

And Lance is looking at him so expectantly, that excited little glimmer lighting up his eyes…

Keith sighs. 

“….as long as you promise you won’t make fun of me…”

Lance _shrieks_ , and Keith practically jumps out of his skin.  Lance rushes over to grab his hand and drags him into the large space in the centre of the bridge.

 _He was so going to fucking regret this_.

Keith is still being tugged along when Lance suddenly spins on his toe, grabs Keith’s _other_ hand, and is invading his space so quickly that Keith almost forgets how to breathe. 

Lance laces their fingers together and starts pulling their arms back and forth, one at a time, in time with the music.  Lance grins at him, and Keith feels like his face is about to erupt in flames.  Not only is he shimmying their arms forward and back, but Lance’s entire body is moving – so effortlessly and fluid looking, like he was made of water or something… 

And Keith just _can’t_ do it; he’s trying, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he feels _ridiculous_ …

“Hey, loosen up man,” Lance laughs, “You’re so stiff!”

Immediately Keith is turning away, ducking his head and trying to pull his hands free, wondering if it was actually possible to die of mortification. 

But Lance is holding him fast.  “Woah woah woah – it’s alright, relax!  I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you I swear!”

“I – I can’t do this Lance…”

“Sure you can!  You’re a quick study, yeah?  Here, watch me.”

Reluctantly Keith swivels his head round because Lance has given him permission to _stare_ , and there’s no way this will end well.

His hips are still swinging back and forth without effort, as if being pulled by some invisible strings from side to side, and Keith can’t help the way his mouth hangs open a bit.  _How the hell is he doing that??_

“See, it’s easy!  You just feel the music and move; let your body listen to what the music is telling it.”

Keith somehow manages to snap himself out of his ogling and shoots a scowl at the other boy.

“Those are the worst directions I’ve ever heard.”  Lance gasps in mock outrage, but Keith continues.  “ _Let your body listen to the music_?  What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I just said!  There’s no secrets, no hidden instructions, no surprises.  It’s easy!”

Keith frowns at him, frustration evident in the way his eyebrows are scrunching together.

“Lance…”

“You’re thinking too much. Here –“

And then Lance is moving again.  In an instant he’s maneuvered himself behind Keith, grabs onto his hips with both hands and presses himself snugly along Keith’s back. 

Keith bites back a gasp and freezes, his brain stuttering to a halt.

Lance’s hands are warm through his t-shirt, resting comfortably but firmly on his hipbones.  He’s got a few inches on Keith so he’s able to peer over the other boy’s shoulder, softly singing along in Spanish right into Keith’s ear…. And damn it all to hell, Lance has a lovely singing voice.  Of course he does.  Between his crooning and the spicy citrus smell of him completely infiltrating Keith’s senses and the feel of his hips pressed up _right against his ass_ , he can’t _think,_ he can’t _breathe_ …

Keith becomes dimly aware of Lance putting pressure on his hips with his hands one side at a time, encouraging them to move in time with the tempo.  He can feel Lance swaying along behind him in what Keith assumes is what he’s _also_ supposed to be doing… but it’s just so lewd and sudden and _intimate_ that Keith can barely find it in him to function.

He can’t – and how can he?  He doesn’t _do_ this.  He doesn’t dance, he’s not a hugger (he’s not a fan of close proximity with others in general), and he _definitely_ doesn’t let people just _grind_ on him like this…or _touch_ him like this…

But this isn’t just anybody – it’s _Lance_.  He’s loud, obnoxious, rude, narcissistic, immature… basically one step away from intolerable in Keith’s books.  No doubt the biggest pain in his ass he’s ever had the misfortune to meet.  They’ve been butting heads since day one, bickering like children at every available opportunity, and yet.

And yet.

Keith has yet to remove himself from this situation, much to his inner chagrin.    

“ _Relax,”_ Lance says softly, the warmth of his breath ghosting across Keith’s ear.  The suddenness of it makes him shudder, and he prays Lance doesn’t notice. 

The other boy continues speaking, so Keith exhales a relieved sigh. 

“You’re still fighting me.  Just pay attention to what I’m doing, and try to move with me.”

Keith doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he attempts to do as Lance says. 

He closes his eyes.  Listens to the swell of the music around them, to Lance’s soft breaths, to the thundering of his heart.  Lance continues singing along behind him…

“… _tengo, tengo la camisa negra, porque negra tengo el alma, y_ _o por ti perdí la calma y_ _casi pierdo hasta mi cama_...”

And the more Keith pushes his focus away from himself, the more he can feel the tension steadily drain from his body.  Suddenly he can _feel_ the rigidness in his hips melt away, and the next thing he knows he swaying along with Lance beat for beat.  He still feels a bit clumsy, but Lance’s weight pressing in behind him feels as grounding as it does reassuring.

“There you go,” Lance murmurs into his ear, and the pride Keith thinks he detects in the other boy’s voice is making him extremely glad that Lance can’t see his face.

Then, Keith is not completely sure, but it feels like Lance is pressing even _closer_ to him somehow, closing what little space that exists between them.  He knows for certain a moment later though because the pressure causes him to stumble forward a bit.  So he widens his stance and bends his legs a bit to give him more balance – and Lance follows along right behind him.      

Then, something shifts in the atmosphere.  Keith feels it immediately, unsure if it’s something subtle or something immense, because _physically_ , he and Lance are more fitted together now than they’ve ever been.  From the tops of their shoulders to the middle of their calves, there is not a single inch between them.  Suddenly this became a bit more than ‘just dancing’ between teammates; Keith is no longer sure of what’s going on (not that he really knew in the first place), but he does know that – against his better judgement – he’s not entirely hating it.

And that scares him.

Actually, to be honest, this whole thing is scaring him.  He’s never been in a situation like this with _anyone_ before.  He doesn’t know what to do with this new sort of tension that’s blossomed between them.

 _You’re thinking too much_.

Lance’s words from earlier sound in his head and he tries to make himself relax, wills his heartbeat to slow the _fuck_ down.  Don’t think, just be.

Don’t think.

_Don’t think._

So he keeps dancing as best as he can, using Lance’s movements to guide him.  Just when he thinks he has his breathing and heart rate under control, he feels Lance’s fingers tighten on his hips and _pull_ him backwards as Lance pushes himself forwards.  Then Lance’s lips are right at his ear as he says along with the voice over the speakers –

“ _E_ _nterrartelo cuando tú quieras mamita_.”

And – okay, um, holy shit.

Lance doesn’t so much _say_ it as _growl_ it out, his voice low and gravelly.  And of course Keith has no idea what that means, but the way Lance said it made it sound so incredibly _filthy…_

If Keith felt warm before he’s _sweltering_ now, his face probably redder than the colour of his lion.  There’s no way Lance can’t feel the blush just radiating from him like a goddamn furnace.

If he’s grateful for anything at this point in time, its that their positions aren’t reversed.  Then there would be absolutely no way to hide the _full extent_ of how this whole situation is affecting him. 

Of course, to make matters worse, Lance’s hands begin to roam.  They slide up to frame the gentle curve of his waist before swooping down again, back over his hips and down down down, over the front of his thighs.

Keith sucks in a breath, his brain spinning.

If any more blood continues to rush from his head to, uh, _other_ parts of his body, there is a strong chance he may faint.

And he would rather die than faint in front of Lance. 

But his hands, they feel so _nice_ on him; he can feel Lance’s warmth seeping through them and through the rest of his body.  And they are so dangerously close to where Keith wants them most…

Before he knows what he’s doing, his hands move to cover Lance’s own where they are splayed out on his thighs.  Keith hears Lance inhale shakily over his shoulder, telling him that he isn’t the only one that is… _feeling_ things.  The sound drives an unexpected flip out of Keith’s stomach, something warm and aching pooling low in his gut.    

Keith finds himself turning his head over his shoulder, not an anxiety-riddled thought in his head in this moment except that he wants to be _closer._   The rest of his body follows suit as he slowly turns around in Lance’s arms, the other boy’s hands skimming around his waist before tightening again on his hips.

Keith’s own hands are now caught between them, pressed gently against Lance’s chest.  Keith is afraid to open his eyes, afraid of what he might see in Lance’s face if he does.  But they flutter open against his will, and the sight that greets him couldn’t be more shocking.

Lance’s eyes are hooded and dark, _very_ dark, though Keith can still make out very thin rings of his irises, bluer than Earth’s skies on a clear sunny day.  But what puzzles Keith even more is the expression on his face.  Keith is used to seeing Lance in all sorts of emotional fits – usually in his prime moments of obnoxiousness when he’s trying to be the team clown… or when he’s trying to pick a fight with Keith.

Now there is only a fierce sort of intensity in his gaze that’s making Keith’s mouth run dry.  Keith has never seen him this serious before, _ever_ , and the way Lance is looking at him now is frightening, though he’s not sure why.  He has no past experiences to draw from.

Then realization dawns on him slowly as all the pieces of the puzzle come together. 

Lance looks _hungry_.

Keith swallows the sudden lump in his throat, feeling like he guessed correctly when Lance’s eyes dart down to track the movement before coming up to rest on his mouth.  Keith’s heartbeat races in his ears and he feels himself flush all the way down to his toes. 

He’s panicking, he can sense it.  Lance has _way_ more experience in this area than he does, and it’s only until now that Keith feels a tad inferior because of it.  But underlying all his worrying is the steadfast heat radiating into him from Lance’s body, Lance’s hands.  They’re standing so close together that Keith can actually feel the warmth of Lance’s breath on his mouth.  _Citrus_ , just like the rest of him.  The sweetness of Lance’s scent is thick and heady and so _wonderful_ that Keith kind of wants to drown himself in it.  It’s making him dizzy, it’s _all_ making him dizzy, the aching heat pooling in his abdomen, Lance’s fingers digging into his hips, the sensation of their bodies pressing together…

Then Lance’s eyelids are slipping shut and he’s brushing their noses together, and Keith lets out a soft sound when he feels the barest pressure of Lance’s mouth against his own…

But by the time they hear the bridge doors hiss open, it’s too late.

“OH THERE YOU ARE YOU TWO!!”

Keith is springing away from Lance even before Pidge finishes shouting her arrival.  He risks a glance at Lance, who’s wearing such an impressively gobsmacked expression that Keith would’ve laughed at him if he didn’t think he currently wore a matching one. 

“I – I just remembered, I have something to take care of.  Like now.”  Keith all but flees the room with his face on fire, pretending not to notice the amused smirk Pidge sends him before he leaves.

_What the fuck just happened??????_

~)*(~

“So, you finally put the moves on Keith huh?”

“ _What?”_ Lance yelps.  “Are you crazy?? I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Me and _Keith_??  Yeah okay, next joke please – “

“Lance I’m not an idiot.  I saw you two just now.”

Lance groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

“And even if I didn’t, it’s so painfully obvious.  You guys bicker more than most married couples do.”

“Well what do you know, you’re like twelve.”

“Shut it,” Pidge huffs.  “So this was your plan of attack then?  Trying to woo him with your Latino music and some dancing?  That’s new.”

“It wasn’t – I’m not – “  Lance looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck, a fiery blush spreading its way from his cheeks down to his chest.  “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”  He laughs then, a soft, self-deprecating sound.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Will you _stop_ ,” Lance seethes.  “Well whatever was happening, it’s ruined now because of _you_.  So thanks a lot.”

“Hmmm, wouldn’t be so sure,” Pidge hums, heading out the way she came.  “By the way, Allura wants to see us in the lions’ hanger.”

Lance waits until the doors click all the way shut before bringing the tips of his fingers up to his mouth, wondering.  He allows himself one more tiny smile and a flush before going to join the others. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Spanish is all Google Translate so if I made a mistake please let me know!!
> 
> The song Lance is playing is _La Camisa Negra_ by Juanes, which AO3 user Nonbinary_Queen has translated for me as being a black button down shirt, or like dress shirt that a man would wear under his suit! oh lala ;)
> 
> Translations:  
>  _tengo, tengo la camisa negra porque negra tengo el alma, yo por ti perdí la calma, y casi pierdo hasta mi cama_ : I have a black shirt to match the darkness in my soul, I have completely lost my cool over you, lost it right up to my bed. 
> 
> Translation from https://lyricstranslate.com/en/la-camisa-negra-black-t-shirt.html
> 
>  _Enterrartelo cuando tú quieras mamita_ : bury it whenever you like baby 
> 
> Translation from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-4fo1mjvsA lmaaoooo xD I love it


End file.
